


Long Live the Queen

by wordwinx



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Queen (Band)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-21
Updated: 2012-07-21
Packaged: 2017-11-10 09:29:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/464761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordwinx/pseuds/wordwinx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one . . . and I mean NO ONE is immune from Adam Lambert withdrawal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Live the Queen

**Author's Note:**

> I don't ever recall fantasizing about friendship, let alone feeling compelled to write about it. That is until I witnessed the presence and power of Adam Lambert and Brian May together on stage. This piece is platonic and perhaps not what you're looking for, but I wrote it for myself mostly. As always, any musing is worth sharing just in case a like-minded daydreamer is interested.

Anita answered the door and was relieved to see Roger standing there. “He’s been in the studio for days. He came out for his birthday, as you know, and I thought maybe he was over it.”

“He does this, Anita . . . always has, always will.”

“I know, but somehow it’s different this time. He’s not as irritable as usual after a tour. He’s more wistful, I guess, and affectionate.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Well, he comes out to look for something or stare at the telly, but he won’t stay long. I bring him food, but he hardly touches it. He sleeps more on the couch in there than in bed, but . . . strangely, when I do check on him, he just smothers me with kisses and tells me how much he adores me and how grateful he is that I put up with him. He was always grouchy before, so inconvenienced by my worry that I stayed away.”

“It doesn’t sound like you have reason to worry.”

“Please, Roger, just talk to him. A messenger sent an enormous envelope of photographs from Hammersmith, and Bri has been pouring over them like the Scotland Yard, but I have no idea what he’s looking for.”

Roger followed Anita down the hall and into the sunlit studio. Brian had always been partial to natural light. He was sprawled casually across an upholstered chaise with his guitar “the red special” in his lap. Headphones crushed the mass of fluffy curls against his ears. Brian’s eyes were closed. The riff he played sounded familiar, but it wasn’t Queen. Anita tapped his foot. 

“You’ve got company, Bri.” Brian was cross at first until he saw who it was. 

“Oh, hello, Roger.” He put his headphones aside and motioned for his friend to sit down. Anita shut the door behind her. “I can guess why you’re here.”

“I don’t know why she tolerates you . . . or any of us for that matter.”

“I don’t deserve her.”

“That’s putting it rather mildly.” Roger and Brian just stared at each other with knowing expressions. This was familiar territory, and in spite of Anita’s worry, there really was no point in hashing it out. Brian’s tour withdrawals were legendary. He shut himself up and brooded until he was ready to move on. This tour had been short but inexplicably sweet. The prospect of future gigs was more a possibility than a probability. Time slips away so swiftly. They weren’t getting any younger. All these thoughts and feelings were merely understood between the two of them, no lecture necessary. “What were you playing when I came in?”

“It’s a piece off Adam’s album. Clever bit, isn’t it?” 

Roger nodded in agreement. “Adam has a show back in the states, doesn’t he?”

“Several actually. He’s already got a rather full plate as it were.” Brian returned his attention to his strings. “I miss him.”

“Fine lad.” Roger waited for Brian to continue. It was obvious he needed to get something off his chest. When Brian didn’t speak, Roger continued. “Brian, when we lost Freddie . . .”

Brian interrupted. “It isn’t that. It isn’t like that, at all.”

“Well, what IS it then? You’re moping about like a lovesick school girl, and it’s hardly becoming on you.” Brian huffed, but he let Roger go on. “We all feel sorry it’s over, but can’t you see how irrefutably marvelous it is that it happened at all? No one can return to the glory of the past, but dammit we gave it a go, didn’t we?” 

Brian put his guitar aside and sat up straight. He had to collect his thoughts. “This place, this state I’m in is before Fred, before Queen even . . . all the way back to my roots. It’s like the first time I felt naked when I put down my guitar and then invincible when I picked it back up again. It’s when I realized that my destiny was to make music . . . like Adam. Adam has taken me to the beginning, and it’s still there. I mean I’m still there / the boy, the man . . . makes no difference, it’s something beyond time, more like a kinship . . . with Adam. I feel there must be a place where our souls drank from the same pool. Adam took me back to when I came alive. Being with him, making music . . . he . . . he brought me closer to God.” Roger just stared at him with furrowed brows. “Tell me I’ve not gone completely bonkers.”

“It would be a bold-faced lie, if I did. Not one of us has had a lick of sense for years now.” Roger’s words were abrasive, but his eyes were soft. 

Brian got up and went to the window. It had begun to rain. “Did you . . . did you ever look directly into his eyes?”

Roger shook his head regretfully. “Once, after we sang Under Pressure, but . . . I had to look away again.”

“It was too much, wasn’t it?” Roger nodded, and Brian continued carefully. “When we were rehearsing before the tour, Adam was feeling doubtful. He needed my confidence . . . rather to see the confidence I had in him. I didn’t look away, and . . .” Brian shrugged at the lack of meaning in mere words. “We exchanged something. I know it sounds absolutely bizarre, but after that, Adam never faltered . . . in his vision, his focus. He took that resolve from me, but I took from him too.”

“A generous man, indeed . . . very giving.”

“That spark . . . a spark of youth and vitality, sharing his very spirit.” Brian inhaled deeply and smiled at the memory. “When he realized I wasn’t going to look away, he felt it too.” Brian searched the air between himself and the wall trying to capture the image again. “His eyes widened, brightened like he saw something in me as well, and I swear to you they changed color, his eyes like a kaleidoscope.” 

“What did he say?”

“Nothing. We didn’t speak of it, but from that moment forward, the connection was there just fingertips away. Sometimes just being near him was enough to feel the charge.” Brian laughed. “He’s not afraid of it, I can tell you.”

“He practically throttled you a few times.” 

“When Adam held me, the energy was so strong, it felt like I was being lifted off the floor. Then he’d smile or wink, the cheeky bugger, and spin away flinging it full force at the audience.”

“He had them . . . every night, in the palm of his hand. I have to admit, a lot like Freddie.”

“Very much. But I noticed something else, a distinct difference.”

“Of course . . .”

“Fred was the ultimate showman without question, but unless he was at the piano . . .” Brian faltered for words again. “He was our Fred at the piano, but the gig was a persona, you know?” Roger understood. “I don’t know whether it’s inexperience or just lack of good judgment, but Adam is himself out there, perhaps his ultimate self, but he holds nothing back. It’s not an act. Adam let the music inside. I found myself almost worried for him, stepping so close to the edge like that, physically . . . emotionally.” 

Roger smiled softly. “I think Adam has made friends with the edge just fine.” Brian gazed out the window and found his melancholy once again in a smudge on the glass. He tried to rub it away with his thumb. Roger didn’t want to let him slip away. “It isn’t over, you know?”

“Of course not.”

“We’ll have Adam again. He wants it too, said so.”

“Yes, you’re absolutely right.”

Roger went to his friend and squeezed his shoulders. “There will be a next time.”

“Yes, next time.” Brian patted Roger’s hand then wandered over to the table covered with photographs.

“So you’ll be all right, then?”

Brian sighed and picked up a picture of their curtain call. “The devil of it is, it’s an awfully high bar to climb down.”

“It was something, wasn’t it?”

“Very nearly the best ever.”

“Just a rock’s toss from our heyday.”

“Only a rock’s toss.” The men stood in silence for a little while sorting through photos, lifting one after the other giving it a reverent nod, smile, or sigh as the memory suggested. Then Brian touched the corner of an image that truly moved him. It was Adam . . . his face an open page, his eyes glittering with expectation as he beheld the audience. His microphone inches from his lips, a note not yet offered. Brian wiped his eye with the heel of his hand. “I didn’t think it was possible.” Roger waited patiently for Brian to gather courage. He already knew what his lifelong friend was going to say. “I knew the tour would succeed. I never doubted my choice, but I had absolutely no idea what we were in for . . . that it would affect me this way.”

“It truly is a kind of magic, Brian. I think you should cherish it.”

“Oh, Roger, when Fred died, I never guessed in a million years, I’d ever fall in love again and it feels so fantastic and bloody awful at the same time.”

“It’s all right, Bri. We were all in love with Freddie in our own way. What you have with Adam is very special. You may not be a part of each other’s worlds, but you are a part of each other’s lives now. Let the knowledge that you have a future get you through. I’ll warrant our book has another chapter or two to go.”

“I knew you would understand, my dear, dear friend. These shows with Adam just brought everything back, so vividly.”

“It isn’t a bad thing. Bri, we are so fuckin’ lucky! You know, I think you’re actually quite happy and you just don’t know what to do with it.” 

“Happy?” Brian wiped the wetness from his face.

“Yes!”

“Me? What a preposterous idea!”

“I’m quite serious. I fear the worst, Bri. You’ve been infected with good cheer, and you’re just going to have to get used to it.”

“Perfect rubbish.”

“I think you should call the man.”

“No, I couldn’t possibly.”

“Of course you could. Call him. What if he’s pining away for you just as you are for him? What then?”

“I hardly think Adam pines for anything. You did meet his boyfriend, right?”

Roger grinned. “Nice chap.”

“To say the least.” Brian and Roger exchanged a bawdy glance. “Thank god I’m not a young man.”

“It goes without saying.”

“So don’t say anything.”

“You brought it up.”

“I didn’t.”

“Well, you’re thinking about it.”

“I am now! I thought you came over to make me feel better. It’s hopeless.”

“I’m sorry. Let’s just drop it.”

“It was an accident.”

“No question. I never thought otherwise.” Now there was an awkward silence between them. The incident up for debate had played over and over in Brian’s mind with varying degrees of delight and alarm. After the first show in London, there had been a celebration. Roger had always been the playboy in their group, a hearty laugh and clap on the back. He and Adam were the life of the party. Adam didn’t tell jokes, but he said things in a funny, animated way that totally engaged his company. They loved hearing about his adventures and encouraged him to share his stories even though Adam dismissed them as unworthy of mention. His giggle was infectious. He was elegantly relaxed from drinking, sophisticated but with an occasional childlike whimsy. Everyone there wanted to be near him. Brian held back and watched as was his usual point of view. He soaked it all in. The concert had been electrifying and more warmly received than they could ever have anticipated. An abundance of joy lit them from within. When many visitors had retired, the mood evolved to a low, satisfied hum like that after a feast well-savored. The evening reluctantly came to a close. Adam’s publicist sent a car to take him to the hotel. The driver was waiting, so Adam hurried. For some reason, he still behaved as if he were on borrowed time not wanting to be a shred of inconvenience in present company. Adam needed the UK onboard not only for the Queen gigs but for his own CD release as well. Everyone knew this. Adam played the dutiful guest of royalty, even bowing periodically though not in mockery, just genuinely respectful. His hosts were flattered / honored, really. When Adam offered a handshake to Roger, Roger pushed his arm aside and embraced him. He kissed Adam briskly on both cheeks while Adam beamed. Brian was there. Adam turned to him still with arms open only Brian was mindful of giving Adam space. He was actually a little apprehensive that he might become awkwardly emotional over the overwhelming success of the night. He had already embarrassed himself by bursting into tears during rehearsals, a response to Adam’s voice he hadn’t anticipated. The respect and affection were at odds. Brian was fronted for a handshake, Adam was going for a cheek. The result was a rather powerful collision with full on kiss that went from soft to wet in an instant. Adam sort of popped off and held Brian at arm’s length. All Brian could do was blink in surprise. Adam was remarkably beautiful even up close, stunning in fact. He blushed and stepped away. “Well, goodnight gents. Ladies, sweet dreams.” They wished him likewise. Adam turned his shoulders then his head, his legs extended like a dancer’s, light on the footfalls. He glided with purpose across the room, then disappeared through the door leaving the room of guests to marvel at an exit well made. Roger turned immediately to Brian and whispered too loudly. “Well, I’ll be damned. What the fuck was that?” 

Brian touched his lips, dizzily. He could only shrug, completely perplexed and suddenly smitten in spite of himself. Anita bolted from the bar. “Bloody hell! Why wasn’t it me? Are you still with us, Bri?” She began laughing then and everyone submitted to the charm of Adam’s kiss. Brian wished he could recover so fast but the truth was he thought about that kiss long into the night and every day thereafter. When Adam was in the room, he had an uncanny ability to become the very breath in Brian’s lungs taking up permanent residence in his cells. Adam apparently also relished the proximity. Their physical interactions were frequent and intimate, always platonic yet deeply personal. Their touching was never meant to arouse, but rather to refresh, like two boys splashing each other beneath a fountain. Adam and Brian were drunk on this friendship. 

It became obvious to the others in the band and of the staff, that Adam and Brian had something remote they could only admire from a distance. Being the object of Adam’s affection seemed a rather tremendous undertaking. Brian was the right man for the job. After all, he had been Freddie’s favorite as well. No one needed reminding that love that strong comes with consequences. Roger could only imagine Brian’s conflicting sense of fulfillment and loss.

Roger cleared his throat, and Brian startled back to the present. “Where did all these photographs come from?”

“They were delivered today, complimentary prints. You may have some if you like, but these over here, I have already chosen. I want to put together a few pages, just mementoes really . . . maybe scan a few copies to post on my blog.”

Roger picked through them. “You can’t use that one, Bri.”

“Why not? I like that one.” Adam was bent back and belting it out like only he could do.

“The man’s skids are showing.”

“What? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Have a look for yourself! I have a photo of Rufus like this with drum sticks raised high over his head. I framed it, but he was seven.”

Brian frowned. “Adam’s getting thinner, I think. It’s a wonder his pants don’t fall completely down to his ankles.” 

Roger studied the situation critically. “I don’t know. I believe they’re anchored fairly well.”

Brian gasped. “You are a dirty old man, and I’m ashamed to know you.”

“Aw, get stuffed, you’d have to be blind not to notice. You know, sometimes when he was singing . . .”

“I know. I know. I don’t think he can help that.” 

“Then he goes and rips the seat of his pants wide open and shows the lot to thousands of people. Helluva sense of humor, that one. He has no shame at all.”

“He’s just above it . . . all of it.” Brian made a sweeping motion over the table including all the images into his collage of excellence. “Adam is a wellspring of life. He’s laughter and heartbreak and sex and all of it in one extraordinary man!” Brian pressed his lips together a little flustered but grateful he could be so open with his friend. “I keep thinking if I look hard enough at these pictures, I’ll find the proper evidence I need.”

“What for, Bri?”

“Proof that it wasn’t a dream, that it really did happen and wasn’t some figment of my imagination.”

“Why do you doubt it?”

“Too good to be true, perhaps. My hope is rather fragile. I don’t know if we will tour again. I don’t know if we’ll end up in the studio writing new music. This is my wish . . . with Adam, of course, but I don’t know if he even wants us . . . wants me.”

Roger gently patted his friend on the back. They continued in silence perusing through print after print of epic rock ‘n roll genius caught frame by frame. Then Roger’s breath caught in his throat. “Bri?”

“Hmm?”

“This one. Will this one do?” Adam and Brian were leaning back to back on stage totally lost in the music. They were one. Brian touched his heart in full confirmation / the dream at once a reality. “I told you so, Brian. He'll come back. The show must go on.”


End file.
